


Trials and Tribulations

by Aoida_blue



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU - Comicverse, Under the Red Hood
Genre: Aka the Grayson guide on how to woo your emotionally constipated not-brother, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-01
Updated: 2015-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-30 10:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/330977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoida_blue/pseuds/Aoida_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick had many, many faults. The worst three had to be the chatter (the never ending, never stopping chatter), his sheer-bloody minded persistance and of course, the belief in the non-existent. </p><p>Like, say, Dick's belief that all the fights Jason and he had over the years was just foreplay. </p><p>Yeah. No.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because clearly I need to post at least one of the multi-chap giants filling up my computer and why not post a multi-chaptered fic on Dick Grayson's mission of Red Hood Pants domination? 
> 
> I'm such a deep writer /headdesk.

 

Dick never shut up. Not even when they were fighting.

 

“I don’t know why you bother with the mask.” He told Jason, flipping over him with ease, “You are really much better looking with it off.”

 

Jason dove forward, knife flickering and teeth clenched just wanting to scratch the bastard but Dick, damn him, darted left and used Jason’s force to pull a particularly nasty punch in the gut.

 

“No really. You are.” Dick let Jason roll back, mouth still moving like stopping would cause the apocalypse, “Sure ladies like a mask and mystery, but they like to see the pout of your lips more.”

 

Honestly it was like if he thought if stopped talking, he thought he wouldn’t breathe. Jason grimaced planting a firm foot on the wall and pushing off, vaulting clear over Dick. He landed easily and swung a low kick.

 

“The pout of my lips?” Jason asked, grasping easily at the most readily available retaliation, “are you sure your talking about the ladies? Or you?”

 

Dick jumped over his kick, flying, and instead of flushing or blushing in anyway, his grin broadened. Shame, obviously, had never been introduced to one Dick Grayson. Probably wasn’t even aware of Dick Grayson.

 

“Which you prefer?” Dick shot back coyly.

 

Jason’s eyes widened briefly, and the gap in his defence was enough for Dick tackle him to the ground, leveraging off the ground like a freaking circus freak and pinned him. One wrist twist from Dick and Jason’s remaining gun went skidding along the ground.

 

So Jason hadn’t been expecting that response. Actually he’d been hoping for the disgusted face, complete with twisted lips and twitching eyes, not… well… _flirty_ backchat. But when in doubt, go with the flow. Unleashing his cruellest smirk, Jason chuckled lowly, the exact pitch he knew pissed Dick off.

 

“Oh really? What would daddy dearest say?” Jason said lowly, letting his words drag dangerously, suggestively.

 

It was always hard to get a solid lead on Dick with the domino on. He could lie through his words, but the truth screamed through his eyes, always had. Best way to tell a Dickie bluff was one look in his eyes.  Obscured, Dick’s face gave Jason nothing. The only tell was a slight one, a quirk of the lips as his hands tightened against Jason’s wrists.

 

“Well, if I convinced you to be good for a while, or even just kept you occupied, which let me assure you, I am very _occupying_ ,” Dick smirked, smooth as silk, letting his knee drop between Jason’s, ”he would say something like, _Good Work Nightwing_.”

 

A flush of annoyance rushed through Jason and he felt suddenly and irritatingly bare without his hood. He wanted to snap at Dick, yell at him, and maybe throw another fist. Red Hood wasn’t so easily contained, so easily placated. He wasn’t doing this just to get in Dick’s pants, didn’t even want to. Jason was doing this because he _had_ to, because no one else _would_.

 

But he’d done that route before, sung that song. So Jason laughed, high and mocking.

 

“That’s your shtick? Really?” He drawled, tone with just a hint of rage but a good dousing of amusement because that was what Jason _did_ nowadays.

 

Flicking an arm, he broke free of Dick’s grasp, curling his stomach muscles, hands coming to press against the ground and sprung up, putting good distance between them – _finally_.

 

“So screwing you would make me a good boy?” Jason continued low and nasty as he could, hands itching to draw the dagger in his belt, “You think too much of yourself _Nightwing_.”

 

As if he hadn’t said anything, Dick continued to smirk and slowly prowled around him, circling like a large lazy cat.

 

“Come on, it’ll be amazing.” Dick told him grinning, causal and light, “we can stop all out foreplay and our long _lingering_ looks.”

 

That was rich.

 

“You’re deluded.” Jason told him frankly, taking a step back, “I mean really, call your shrink again Goldie. You need it. All this darkness has you seeing things.”

 

Dick shifted, and Jason could almost see his eyes widening behind the mask, “You didn’t-“

 

He was telling the truth. Something in Jason froze. Dick thought they’d been…

 

That was a good cue to leave. Before Dick could say anything else, Jason turned around, running, picking up the grapple on the ground and leapt into space.

 

Flying had never looked good on him, not like on Dick (which Jason noticed, not deliberately looked at) but Jason loved the feeling regardless, love gravity hurtling him down and the sheer weightlessness as he stretched his arm and fired the grapple. He swung, easy and graceful and knew from the dash of black in the corner of his eye that Dick had decided that this dance wasn’t over yet. Which was just perfect. Really.

 

He landed on the construction site as planned, taking off running across a beam like a high wire and leaped, seizing on the rising steel bar and starting climbing up the wire himself. A breath later he heard Dick's rolling landing copying him.

  
Luckily, Jason didn't need to outrun Dick, he just needed to out think him. Which thanks to some incredible self-admitted paranoia, he had already set up a couple of things for the perfect get away.

  
Assuming he could get there though. Jason glanced down behind him, down below the black shape became a blue blur, leaping up bars as Jason continued up on his make-shift elevator. 

 

“Really?” Dick called up, not as far below as Jason would have liked, he liked Dickie _out_ of hearing range, “I thought you were doing it on purpose!”

 

“You are so wrong it isn’t even funny anymore Dickiebird!” Jason called back, snagging onto the cool metal of the crane as his wire ran out.

 

Swinging he flipped the right way up and sprinted across it. The man in the operator saw him and raised his hands, placating, as Jason ran toward him but Jason hadn’t come up here for him. Flipping behind the crane operator room, he snagged the small bag on the shelf and leapt, flying through the air. He landed back on the construction work and started off running again.

 

Too close behind he heard a similar thump.

 

“Christ, leave me alone Dick.” Jason groaned leaping to the next bar, “Didn’t your daddy teach you _no_ means no.”

 

“Sure, he did.” Dick’s smug voice came from behind, “But you still haven’t said no.”

 

Jason leapt again, rolling as he landed on the building and launched a grapple at the higher building beside it. He ran, cleaning the building just as Dick landed sprinting for him, own grapple shooting out.

 

“Here I thought this was answer enough.” Jason sniped back, swinging high, “Shall I spell out what running away generally means?”

 

“Jay, you could write a book and I’d still not know what you mean.” Dick lazily called back, gaining ground in the swing.

 

At the top arch of his swing, Jason let go of the grapple, shooting across the sky. He reached into his bag, throwing it away as he started to fall, strapping into his own special toy.

 

“Take a good guess what this means Dick!” Jason yelled, pulling harness tight and tugging a strap, broad, light, wings snapped out behind him, instantly sending him into a glide.

 

He glanced around, seeing Dick shadow land on a roof, watching him go. Thankfully out of hearing range.

 

Free at last.

 

Jason sighed. That was not how his night was supposed to go. Ideally it was supposed to go with two dead drug dealers and a whole lot more silence. But then the entire bat clan liked to screw up his plans didn’t they?


	2. Chapter 2

Jason had thought (read: hoped) that Dick’s taunts were just a one night only kind of event. The once in a blue moon lets hit on formerly dead former (not really) brother, a sort of day only insanity. He’d _thought_ the next time he saw Dick it’d be business as usual.

 

But then Jason always seemed to be underestimating Dick’s persistence.

 

“It’ll be good.” Dick continued low and far too husky for the current situation, “I can make it good.”

 

The current situation being a bomb set to blast out a five-story building that Jason was elbow deep in trying to defuse. Dick, the bastard, didn’t seem too worried about that small fact. In fact Jason would have bet anything that he has specifically waited until Jason was too deep in the bomb to pull out to make his entrance.  Then, naturally preceded to lean over Jason’s shoulder, like it was the best place to be, just a hairsbreadth away from touching. Like it was all a carry on from their last unfortunate meeting and the conversation had never stopped.

 

“I’m flexible.” Dick smirked, Jason fucking _felt_ it pressed butterfly-quick against the Kevlar of his shoulder, “ _Very_. You know that.”

 

Lucky for both of them, Jason had been trained by a man so paranoid that Jason could defuse the bomb eyes shut, on one leg, whilst duelling a man with a sword and still not mess up. Or unluckily, Jason grit his teeth, cause otherwise maybe Dick would give him some goddamn space.

 

“I know you have mental deficiencies, I _know_ you do, I’m pretty sure it’s a prerequisite to the big B’s adoption, but I didn’t know it was this severe.”  Jason told him, voice as fake sincere as it would go, “I think you should get help Dickie.”

 

Jason gently plied two wires apart, eyes flickering to the dash, ten minutes to go, easy.

 

Two fingers walked along Jason’s shoulder, idle and almost bored. And there went Bruce's cardinal rule of no-touching whilst defusing bombs.

 

“Sure. You coming with then? We could deal with our problems together.” Dick hummed.

 

Bombs were obviously not enough to amuse Dick these days. Clearly his time with the big leagues had spoiled him.

 

“Ha.” Jason snipped the first of four wires, grinning harshly, “Me? I suit crazy, its like a second skin on me, I mean if I came back from the grave in one piece, well that would be crazy.”

 

The fingers stopped walking, flattening out on his shoulder and sloping up to the crook of his neck. Jason wished so damned much he hadn’t taken off his jacket, the thin Kevlar felt like nothing between Dick’s fingers and his shoulders.

 

The second wire was cut.

 

“You aren’t crazy.” Dick said finally, decisively, “Problems? Yeah sure. But crazy? No. You’re just like the rest of us, only with your morality a little stretched.”

 

Like that was so much of a compliment. Capes tended to be as wacko as the crooks they caught. And _stretched morality_ , good grief was Dick taking political correctness classes?

 

Jason shifted his shoulders, trying to bump Dick off. It was Jason's own subtle message to get the fuck off. Dick acquiesced far too easy, fingers going up to hover just above his suit.

 

“Thanks so much for your opinion.” Jason drawled out, “Really, it means so _much_ to me.”

 

As soon as Jason had stopped his shoulder roll, Dick's fingers instantly resettled himself off Jason’s shoulder. Fingers walking again back along the muscle like a lazy stroll in the park.

 

“No problem.” Dick replied, taking the words at face value, all of Jason’s sarcasm lost, “Now where was I? Oh yes. Reason fifty-two why you should sleep with me-“

 

Jason groaned, and almost, _almost_ slipped around wire number three. Which would be good in some ways, first and foremost Dick would stop talking if they were ashes sprinkled in a five-kilometre radius, but mostly bad, because they’d be ashes spread in a five-kilometre radius. Which would put a bit of a dent in most of Jason’s plans.

 

“And I’d like to think this is the most important one,” Dick emphasised, fingers digging in for a moment.

 

Wire number three was a green one, and Jason gently extracted it from its neighbouring detonator wire, blue (yeah the movies lied). He pressed the knife against the wire, feeling for the give of a dummy wire. Feeling none, he sliced through it cleanly. 

 

Maybe he could install some kind of earplugs into his suit, negating Dick’s voice and nothing else. Surely some techie had figured it out. Perhaps get Dick’s normal pitch or cadence of his speech- He’d send Talia an email.

 

“Reason Fifty two is I understand you, Jason.” Dick said, too soft, too close, suddenly serious as if he’d pulled a switch in his own brain from _Dicking-around_ , to _Dick-serious_ , “Maybe not entirely, but more than anyone else you’d let into your bed, let alone into your life these days.”

 

The worst part of it, the fucking worse thing was that Dick was right. The smug git knew it too. Jason didn’t exactly have a lot of friends, wasn’t really that keen on making them, leaving the list of people he knew divided evenly into past family and present acquaintances.

 

“All the better to keep you _away_ then Dickie-bird.” Jason retorted, he could be glib to Dick’s serious, watch him _go_ , “I mean understand me? Really? Are you trying to get me horizontal or get me to talk about my feelings about killing people?”

 

“Well,” Dick hummed, “You aren’t the only one who can multitask.”

 

 _Un-fucking-believable_. Jason snorted. Dick’s problems had to be worse than Jason thought.

 

Dick straightened abruptly, handing coming to his ear. The sudden absence of pressure against his back made Jason wobble, overcompensating.  Lowly, he swore, quickly regaining his balance, and inspecting the bomb for any wire he made have damaged. Seeing none, Jason let out a tight breath.

 

Fuck, that would have been a bad way to die.

 

“I hate to flirt and dash, but,” Dick’s voice came from somewhere behind him, smug like he’d just seen that, _double fuck_ , “You’ve got this under control.”

 

At his retreating footsteps, Jason slanted a look over his shoulder.

 

“What Dick? Don’t want to stay around until I’ve got my hands free?” Jason smirked, dangerously, “Scared?”

 

Dick was already by the open window and leered back.

 

“Oh no Jay, I _dream_ of that.” He said lowly, drenched in innuendo, and back flipped, disappearing.

 

Jason watched him go and swore again. Giving Dick the last word was like giving a stray food, they’d think it meant forever and follow you till you adopted them or found them another home.  Which- yeah. Damn it.

 

He found the last wire and watched the bomb timer stop.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a distraction.

 

Dick was toying with him, luring him away from the scene. He lingered close enough Jason was forced to engage him but far enough he had to _move_ to reach him. Jason knew it was a trick, a ploy and he couldn’t do a damned thing about it.

 

Red Robin was back behind him, working the mobs, knocking them out, watching out for them until the police got here. Even if Jason managed to slip Dick, he’d still have to deal with Replacement just to prove to the mobs that yeah, he meant business when he said don’t deal to kids.

 

 _For god’s sake_. It’d be easier to kill innocents than mobsters at the moment and _that,_ well that was just wrong on so many levels.

 

Jason ducked under a baton, dropping to the ground trying to kick out Dick’s legs. His kick was dodged, Dick jumping over him and Jason sliced upwards.  Dick twisted hard and the knife skimmed the air above Dick’s stomach, only millimetres away.

 

“Really, if you want my clothes off, you just need to ask.” Dick smirked, blocking Jason as he sprung up sending a sidekick his direction, “Or better yet, start taking off your own.”

 

A spark appeared on a black device in Dick’s hand, just like Batman’s that day on the roof and Jason smirked hard behind his helmet. When Dick flicked it at him, Jason let it hit his jacket, and let it bounce off, hitting the ground without setting anything alight.

 

“Sorry Dickiebird.” Jason threw another punch, Dick blocking it, and threw a low punch with his other hand, “I like keeping my clothes on, especially around you.”

 

More clothes the better with Dick’s current hobby. Particularly his new fireproof jacket.

 

Dick diverted his second punch, sidestepping, grabbing his wrist and pulling. Jason let him pull him, used the momentum, to jam a knee into Dick’s stomach before Dick could strike down on his back. Dick dropped him, and Jason threw a front kick that Dick only just managed to arm block, skidding back and landing in a crouch.

 

“Tease.” Dick told him, slightly breathless, pushing up and running toward him again.

 

For the first time all fight, Jason had space. He used it, turning and running full tilt back toward the scene. He leapt off the roof, going fast enough that when he landed on the ledge he hit the wall hard enough to rattle his teeth. He kept moving, hearing Dick land just as hard behind him.  He had to get back to those mobsters-

 

Long lessons with the big B had taught him always know his surroundings. The lesson saved him as Jason saw something flashing toward him from the other rooftop. He ducked, just as batarangs lodged in the wall above him right where his head had been.

 

Hell. They weren’t normal batarangs. Jason’s eyes widened and he launched himself off the ledge in a breath.

 

The explosion warped through the air, hurtling Jason faster down toward the ground. The tarmac expanded rapidly in his vision, stories flicking past him and Jason scanned the area quickly looking for something, _anything_ , to stop the fall.

 

A street light glinted below him and Jason stretched his body, hands open.

 

Cords twisted around his ankles the moment his fingers touched the metal. They tightened, yanking Jason back and he let go any hope of touching the light, instead using his arms to brace himself as he swung right into a wall.

 

He crashed against the wall hard enough to bruise, even through reinforced armour and his helmet rang with a crack.

 

 _Shit_.

 

Like snow, the helmet shattered and dusted the ground beneath him. Jason shook them roughly off, pulling himself up to his bound legs, knife out. He sliced the ropes in one slash, righting himself into a crouch to hit the ground on two feet rather than his head.

 

Before he got start moving a body collided hard with his back and Jason hit the ground again. His cheek jammed against the cold tarmac, rattling his teeth.

 

“This is fun.” Dick’s smug voice declared from behind him, “But I still think my no clothes option would be more fun.”

 

God that really had to stop.

 

“You’re too late Hood.” Red Robin called out high above them, a corny little rejoiner, “Give it up.”

 

Sirens filled the air thickly, certainly finding the mob guys not one block away and Jason cursed against the ground. There went a decent chuck of his reputation. Lucky he had such a _good_ track record.

 

Time to cut his losses.

 

One of his hands were pinned against his torso, and Jason wiggled his fingers into his pocket, finding the right remote. He clicked the button.

 

Explosions burst overhead, and enough of Dick’s attention was diverted that Jason managed to buck up, dislodge him and land a decent kick to his chest. His explosions were all noise, attention grabbers and Jason pulled out a smoke bomb, dropping on the ground before Red Robin could interfere.

 

“It _has_ been fun.” Jason called out, dropping back in the smoke, “But I’m a busy man, gotta go.”

 

“There are much _better_ ways to be busy!” Dick called out somewhere in the smoke.

 

Jason rolled his eyes. That was just bad. Honestly. Dick had been the quick thinking sidekick for years before Jason and that was the best thing he could come up with?

 

“Not on your life.”

 

He detonated the second round of flashy explosives above and left before Dick could say another damned word. 


	4. Chapter 4

Their ‘meetings’ didn’t stop there.

 

Despite the fact Jason had religiously scanned himself for trackers – found four after the run in with Red Robin and Nightwing with Dick’s stupid blue bird on all four– Dick’s appearances continued at a frankly alarming rate.

 

It sounded like paranoia when Jason muttered it to himself.

 

Sounded like. But it _wasn’t_.

 

There was an important distinction to make.

 

It wasn’t paranoia when they really were out to get you and it was sure as hell that Dick was out to get Jason. Whatever that entailed. Whatever that _meant_ -

 

No.

 

Jason wasn’t thinking about it. Ever.

 

A scarce week after his last appearance, Jason had his next ‘accidental’ Nightwing run in.

 

A shadow dropped from the rooftop above him, and right into his alley. Jason swore, moving instinctively, dropping back to the other side of the alley, jerking the drug dealer turned mob lackey with him as he went.  

 

He’d only been interrogating him for christ’s sakes. But even that seemed to be a no-no.

 

“Police are two minutes out.” Nightwing commented cheerily from his latest perch, eyes flickering briefly over to the drug dealer, “But I’d thought I keep you company. You left in such a hurry last time, all flash and bang, and not enough _substance_.”

 

With the domino on, the crooks couldn’t see Dick’s eyes, couldn’t see the lecherous come hither look Jason could read through warping of the mask around his eyes. But Dick was never about leaving others out, and made up for it by instead dropping his head, making it obvious to all but the very blind he was staring at Jason’s crotch.

 

Jason stared at him for a moment. For once he wished the hood and domino were off, so Dick could read the full measure of his incredulity. Because _really_ -

 

The scum on the ground, the one who sung like a canary when Jason had shown up, looked up. His gaze flickered between the two vigilantes, eyes slowly narrowing like something was slowly occurring to him in his baboonish brain.

 

It looked painful.

 

“Are you two gay?” He asked suddenly, breaking the impromptu stare off.

 

In one sentence, the crook managed two things.

 

One, he’d achieved Nightwing’s amused attention, who beamed at the scum like he was the smart student, and two, earned Jason’s heavy disbelief. 

 

Yeah. Apparently the scum was stupid enough to forget Jason had a _gun_ trained at his _crotch_. Jason’s hand curled around the gun tighter.

 

“Want to say that again?” Jason asked lowly, daringly, moving the gun slightly.

 

Dumb and apparently deaf, the drug dealer turned to Jason, ignorant of how close he walked to becoming less of a man, thick brows buried down over his eyes.  

 

“I thought you hated Nigh-“

 

For the benefit of his quickly disappearing patience, Jason slammed the butt of the gun into the side of the guy’s throat. Shutting him up and shoving him straight into unconsciousness in one easy move. If only it were so easy with Dick.

 

Dick sighed expressively at the action.

 

“See Hood?” Always such a drama queen, Dick had taken to dangling upside down off a wall, as if standing was for mere mortals without finger stripes, “Even the drug dealers think we’re-“

 

Well. That sentence had to be stopped.

 

“What are you doing here ‘Wing?” Jason ground out, brain already racing through his closest escape contingency.

 

Jason hadn’t been exactly expecting the company, he was a busy, busy man these days but hell, he wasn’t a bad host, he could still entertain if he had to.

 

“Patrolling.” Dick shrugged, like this was all an accident, like all the times he popped up grinning in the last few months were all accidents.

 

“Of course you are.” Jason said, deadpan. 

 

“Of course I am.” Dick agreed.

 

Nightwing’s mask gave nothing; neither did his easy come easy go smirk. Jason rolled his eyes, knowing it was a futile effort, hand reaching up to the escape ladder and pulling himself up, watching Dick closely in the side of the vision, watching for any sharp moves toward him.

 

“I wasn’t going to kill him.” Jason said shortly, and then unable to help it, smirked nastily, “I’m not a cold blooded killer.”

 

Just as predicted, Dick followed him up, easily moving up using his grapple, reaching the roof the same time as Jason.

 

“Oh you weren’t?” Dick said lightly, “That’s funny. I seem to remember-“

 

“ _He_ ” Jason interrupted, with emphasis, “is going to tell his bosses who’s after them. Who is coming for them. Fear campaigns Dickie, its like running for mayor.”

 

And, Jason’s mind unhelpfully added, hopefully not anything about that conversation he heard before he got knocked out.

 

“I didn’t realise you liked the power of gossip so much.” Nightwing opined lightly, “So is that is where I’ve been going wrong with you?”

 

This hadn’t intended to be anything more than a warning, a quick swing by, knock a few heads and leave.

 

Jason had better things to do than fight Nightwing over as trivial as scaring a gang member. He actually had goals to accomplish. And sadly, Jason suspected Dick would fight back if he pushed him off the roof.

 

“Oh Dickie, you think too _small_. Your entire presence has been what’s been going wrong with me,” Jason drawled slowly, and adjusted his gun (not at Dick, at the ground, he _really_ didn’t want to fight now) in a pointed reminder who had guns and who had fucking _batons_ , “Which way are you going?”

 

Nightwing shifted, surprised.

 

“Why?” Then Dick’s damn mouth curved into a sly smirk, everything turning straight into innuendo, “Want to come flying with me?”

 

He’d said it like the flying wouldn’t be the in-the-air kind, rather some new horizontal kind.

 

“No.” Jason answered, discretely looking over the roof, “So I know which direction to avoid.”

 

Dick’s mouth opened and Jason took his chance.

 

He leapt off the roof, rolling onto the roof of a speeding truck, teeth shaking but all intact. He gripped his fingers into the sides, and listened for any sign of a thump behind him.

 

None.

 

Jason grinned.

 

Dick was so easy to distract.

 

What Jason hadn’t expected with the distraction, was to give Dick _ideas_. 


	5. Chapter 5

Jason had heard about it first through his listening bugs in strategic locations throughout town. When what he was overhearing hit him, he’d dropped a beer on his favourite safe house’s carpet, staining the (mostly) white carpet instantly.

 

The second time he’d been more prepared, but hearing it from his personal supplier of All Things That Went Bang nearly ruined a perfectly good business relationship. The third and forth, ran close together and by then the entire the criminal and caped community had heard it. The general public were not to far behind either.

 

Dick worked fast, worked clever, and no amount of dampening strategies or outright threats could stop the rumours.

 

It could have only be Dick too.

 

No one else had _any_ motivation to spread that particular rumour.

 

And Jason had only had that fucking conversation about the power of rumour and reputations with Dick barely a week ago.

 

The _bastard_.

 

That wasn’t even the most depressing part. Oh no. It was how many people _believed_ it.

 

The tip-off he’d received about a smuggling ring from an old woman came with a flirty wink.

 

“I understand your relationship entirely.” She told him, teeth-breakingly honest, “That boy has one fine ass.”

 

She was old. Jason told himself firmly. Old and nice and he didn’t punch old nice ladies (contrary to what probably the Bat Boys believed, it was probably on their _Bad Things Jason Does List_ between scaring babies and kicking kittens).

 

Instead he’d smiled tightly, “We aren’t-.”

 

She blinked surprised, then grinned wider, and shuffling closer, “You should. You know you also have a fine-“

 

Jason made his exit quickly, feeling the woman’s disturbing gaze on his behind all the way.

 

When he caught up with the drug smuggling truck, when he had them pinned on the ground, gun to their heads, utterly and blatantly at his _mercy_ , he even heard one mutter.

 

“Great. I’m gonna be killed by the man that gets it up with the ass by Nightwing.”

 

And that. Well. That was the final fucking straw.

 

Jason breathed in and out.

 

He was calm. Utterly tranquil. At one with the universe and all that. Embracing his calm, he lifted his gun and shot the man in the leg, kneecap bursting with a satisfying spurt.

 

“And here I was, just going to leave you intact for the cops.” Jason told them dryly watching the man scream and hiss holding the bloody mess of his knee.

 

His partner turned, looking up at him with big eyes, and shook his head. His entire body shaking with the effort he put into it. Effort or fear. Jason didn’t really care which.

 

“I don’t have anything against it.” The man told him fervently, “I mean whatever makes you happy? A guy has to-“

 

Jason pistol-whipped him.

 

“You just don’t shut up.” Jason gritted out,, “And for the record, _I’m not sleeping with Nightwin_ g. If I hear you spreading rumours….”

 

Jason let his voice trail off and the man shuddered agreeably. Sirens started to wail softly in the distance and Jason cursed under his breath, leaving the crooks to the cops.

 

So now, apparently not only was sleeping with Gotham’s blue and black tight wearing gymnast, but apparently bottoming him.

 

It was _ridiculous_.

 

Red Hood had an image based in fear and blood. He’d kill those who went to far and those who got in his way, he’d controlled the underworld for a good six months and even with a scaled down operations, not many crooks dared to go against him.

 

That hard earned image had taken months to build up, Jason had spilt blood and sweat over, had been responsible for days and days of work. Yet with a few well placed comments, Dick had managed to change that image to Red Hood: fear, blood and Nightwing’s bitch.

 

Even rescuing (which, you know, he did _actually occasionally_ do) a young lady from a burning apartment, Dick’s work showed. Where he’d used to get flirty come-ons, shy touches and a brush of lips against his hood, all he got a was a sigh.

 

A kind of hearty _if-only_ sigh.

 

“Such a pity.” The lady said, eyeing him appreciatively and was quickly engulfed in rescue workers before Jason could say a damned thing.

 

In all Dick had changed his reputation, read _tarnished_ it, and taken away the nicer aspects of the job.

 

Jason was going to fucking _murder_ him.

 

Slowly.

 

Jason took to the roofs, police scanner receiving clearly through his earpiece.

 

On an average day, Jason tried to keep his movements as unpredictable as possible, Dick was so far in the opposite it took one crime involving an elderly man and a mugging in the north and Jason was watching Dick causally cuffing the two thieves to a drain pipe.

 

Dick’s eyes glowed like his electric blue stripes as he glanced up.

 

“Sorry kiddies.” Dick told the bruised thieves, patting one patronisingly on the head, “The wife’s calling.”

 

Absolute _Bastard_.

 

No wonder everyone was talking.

 

Both thieves glanced up and Jason dropped back from view, fingers unlatching the red hood and pulling it off his head. Dick needed to see how _unhappy_ he was when Jason punched his smug, annoying, reputation ruining face.

 

Dick landed lightly, feet barely making a noise on the roof, but he didn’t even need to talk, his smirk, the way his eyes swept across Jason’s face, was doing enough talking for him.

 

 “Why, Hood, I finally have the honour of seeing those-“ Dick started, low and flirty.

 

And that was _it_.

 

Jason spun on his heel, sending a fist flying directly at Dick’s face.

 

The smug bastard dodged it easily, ducking to the side like an afterthought.

 

“So you have been getting my messages.” Dick told him, chipper even as Jason threw a front kick, “I’ve been wondering if I’ve been too subtle.”

 

Jason gritted his teeth and punched out again.

 

“Oh. Don’t worry Dickiebird.” Jason hissed out, hating the way Dick was just blocking and dodging everything, an unsubstantial whirlwind, “I got it. Now please stay still while I strangle you.”

 

Dick didn’t.

 

He weaved, dodging Jason’s blows, leapt and used sheer ridiculously amounts of grace and appreciatively showy moves to find clear ground.

 

“Kinky.” Dick told him, “But I was thinking something more like-“

 

Abruptly, Dick stopped dodging, Jason smirked and tore out a particularly nasty right hook but, last minute, Dick moved. Dick stepped a little to the left, punch sailing by easily, then Dick was grasping his wrist and tugging him off balance. Stepping forward to regain it, Jason felt the brief graze of lips over his.

 

It was nothing ground-breaking, barely even able to be classified as anything kiss-like, just a pair of lips grazing but it threw Jason’s attention.

 

He stumbled away and Dick, damn it, let him.

 

Dick smirked, winked and hell, licked his damn lips and Jason’s mind blanked for a moment.

 

“Really.” Dick told him, voice low and tempting, still smirking, “Our rumoured relationship needs to stop being just a rumour.”

 

Then the asshole blew a kiss and back flipped elegantly off the building, grapple on some distant building leaving Jason standing on the rooftop like some rescued damsel.

 

“Bastard.” Jason hissed again, pushing on his helmet with more force than the not.

 

Slow. And Painful. That’s what Dick’s death was going to be. Slow. Painful.

 

And fuck, he _wasn’t_ blushing. It was rage that made blood rush to his cheeks.

 

 _Rage_.


	6. Chapter 6

The thing was that Jason had been following Dick’s lead the moment he’d been handed the green pixie boots and scaly panties. He’d been damn good mimic and adjusting all of Dick’s big loud flashy movies into something that suited Jason’s own sleek grace. This would be no different.

 

Dick wanted the world to think that Nightwing and Red Hood were banging on every available surface?

 

Yeah. Okay.

 

Jason could play that game, could change it into his own game.

 

Jason put a foot on the stack of mob goonies, and grinned hard underneath his hood.

 

Oh Dickie boy did not know what he had gotten himself into.

 

“Freeze!” A cop shouted from the entry way, then blinked at him, actually saw who he pointed his gun, then bleached outright pale “Er. Um.”

 

His partner was more eloquent, “God Almighty.”

 

“Nup.” Jason shook his head, “Just Red Hood.”

 

The cop with the gun was actually shaking now, trigger twitching, “You.. you ware wanted Red Hood for… for the-“

 

“Shut up.” His partner hissed at him, her eyes never leaving Jason, “We are _not_ arresting him.”

 

Jason hmm’ed under his breath, “Best not, I mean my boyfriend might not like that.” He looked up, to the rooftop and discreetly knocked his wrist against a trigger.

 

An escrima stick shoot right out of the window, embedding itself into the wall, three feet away from the cops. Maybe a little overzealous, as it actually managed to crack the brickwork, and Dickie could only dream of doing that but-

 

The cop lowered his gun instantly, eyes shooting up to the darkened roof top, where Jason had, if only for show, put up a mannequin. The shadows did their work wonderfully, and the cops skittered back a few steps.

 

Ah the joys of rigging his own allies.

 

Jason smirked, “He’s so possessive.”

 

“We don’t have any troubles with Nightwing.” The female cop said, loudly, glancing up to the rooftop, hand on her gun, the other hand on her partner’s elbow.

 

“Then you’ll give me no trouble then.” Jason winked at them, “Let your friends know.”

 

The female cop nodded quickly, her male partner however scowled sinking back into the car.

 

Well. Jason reasoned, watching them retreat, either that had damaged Dick’s reputation or they might actually ease up a little on their Red Hood Hunt. That was the fourth set of cops he’d freaked out this week, knowing how corrupt the police force was, it was a toss up as to which of the two outcomes would actually happen.

 

Oh well. Served Dick right.

 

Jason collected his goodies and started to make his way home.

 

As Jason was more _unpredictable_ than Dick, like anyone in the world was really, it took Dick a good two weeks to hunt him down.

 

And by then, well.

 

The cops were definitely easing up on their chase of the elusive Red Hood, and there was a marked uptick in mutters about the Red Hood compromising Nightwing on a lot of the chatter Jason had been monitoring.

 

When Dick found him, relaxing with a beer on a roof top as he listened to one such report, well, Jason had sort of wanted to be found by then.

 

Jason heard him land, a solid thump and grinned, turned his radio up a bit.

 

“Just in time Dickie.” Jason called behind his shoulder, “This is my favourite bit.”

 

 _“-thought he had been turning Red Hood straight, not the other way around-“_ The voice came out of the radio, Gordon’s own right hand woman.

 

Jason turned to smirk at Dick and found his smile freezing on his lips.

 

Dick was leaning on a chimney, smirking at him.

 

Which was so not how this worked.

 

“Did you just miss that?” Jason asked, drawling a little slowly, thumbing at the radio.

 

Dick’s grin increased.

 

“If I had been turning you straight, then I wouldn’t have been doing my job very well.” Dick told him with a leer, eyes dropping up and down Jason.

 

Jason flustered, and he had to swing all the way around, get on his feet to face Dick. Sitting down had suddenly felt way too exposed.

 

“I think you're missing the point.” Jason raised a hand, then slowly raised a finger and another, “For one, I’m getting the cops off my tail, and for two, I’ve tarnishing your squeaky clean reputation.”

 

That only got the edges of Dick’s smile to sharpen and he dropped his head a little, eyeing Jason in a way which was so not appropriate given the circumstances, mainly Jason _winning_.

 

“I knew you’d find your advantages in the situation.” Dick drawled slow as molasses, “Now you really should find more in it becoming a reality.”

 

And really, Jason had to-

 

“Are you serious.” He asked, a little hard, because yeah sure, he played as glib as Dick at times, still.

 

Dick shrugged.

 

“Jason, you don’t need the cops chasing you, I may not agreed with your methods but,” Dick shrugged, “And the new rep, well, it might not have helped my relationship with the cops, but its made me more terrifying to the perps, in that way I figure we balanced each other out, traded with each other.”

 

Jason stared.

 

This was on the very bottom of the list of how he had expected things to go. So far down the bottom, that if Jason had formed an actual list, he probably would never have thought to put it on there.

 

Dick took a few step forwards, eyes skipping across Jason’s face like he was absorbing it. Jason felt very bare without the hood. It wasn't like he could even put it on now, even though it was a scant through few feet to his left. It would be an open invitation to mockery. Hell, he’d mock himself.

 

“Now, have you thought about turning it into a reality?” Dick asked, voice low, lilting up in ways that did … _things_ … to Jason’s insides, “you can see nothing bad would happen if we did.”

 

Jason took a step back, smiled a little hard, his heart pounding a little out of rhythm in his chest. The traitor that his mind was kept replaying Dick’s last little encounter with him.

 

“Well I’m still waiting to get a batarang in the shoulder so...” Jason drawled, picking the first thing that came to him.

 

At that Dick actually stopped, and looked at Jason, frowning.

 

“B is more likely to give _me_ the shotgun talk.” Dick commented, a little slowly, like Jason was an idiot for suggesting it.

 

Jason arched a brow high enough it felt right to pop off his face, “No, it would definitely be me.”

 

“I’m older.” Dick countered.

 

“I’m bad-er” Jason shot back at him, a little sarcastic.

 

“You were his favourite.”

 

“Then I died.” Jason bit back.

 

“He’ll label me the responsible one and then come after me.” Dick told him, ignoring his previous comment all together, then shuddered and spun to look over his shoulder, peering at his surroundings.

 

Jason understood the feeling, he was glancing around them as well, a little _unsettled_.

 

 _Say Batman three times looking in the mirror and he’ll appear_ , Jason had used to joke as a child.

 

He couldn’t see anyone on any of the rooftops near them, and no window and a good enough line of sight, but-

 

This was still _Batman_.

 

When Dick looked back to him, he was more than a little pale.

 

“I feel like we’ve summoned him.”

 

Didn’t feel like such a joke now, Jason shivered a little, picking up his radio and his helmet.

 

“I’m just gonna-“ Jason nodded behind him.

 

Dick nodded, more than a little distracted, “Yeah, I have a- thing-“

 

They both got out of there. In very separate directions. 


	7. Chapter 7

 

There were advantages about the Nightwing-Red-Hood-knocking-boots situation, Jason really had to a fool not to see them. The least of which was everyone assumed Red Hood had back up when he went into any situation. A really amazingly great advantage because the crooks were too busy scoping out the darkened windows or vantage points high above, and ignored Jason swinging a fist at their face.

 

Such a good advantage.

 

But it did have its drawbacks.

 

A chance meet with Nightwing _and_ Red Robin in a terrorist’s house that felt like meeting the fucking family?

 

Big fucking drawback.

 

Ignoring the fact that it was also sort of his family.

 

Except not really.

 

Whatever.

 

“If you hurt him,” Tim told him, voice overly cool ducking behind a create from the bombardment of bullets, “I will end you.”

 

Jason’s helmet had been already used as a particularly useful explosive moments before and Jason regretted using it so soon. It could have put an end to Replacement’s annoying comments and his own tortured life at the striped hands of Dick.

 

Also top one he had _not_ been expecting the shotgun talk from.

 

“Ending me? That’s a heavy threat from a non-violent bat-ling..” Jason returned, ducking up to send some bullets the way of the damned thugs, and getting a good scope of the land – a lot of crates forward, good cover, Dick was at the edge to the right, and there was an unused catwalk above- and ducked back down, “And there is _nothing_ going on, unless you’re stupid enough to fall for the rumours.”

 

But the comment stung weirdly, which was idiotic because _obviously_ little replacement didn’t actually mean kill him, and it shouldn’t matter that no one would have done that for him, not _then_ , not _ever_ , hell no one had killed for him and he’d _died_.

 

Well, yeah, he was going to end that thought train right then.

 

Tim watched him steadily, as if there wasn’t fire and bullets and mayhem happened right over their heads. Despite his face nearly entirely covered in either mask, or grime, Jason could _still_ feel the disbelief oozing off him.

 

And judgement.

 

So, so, so much judgement.

 

“There _isn’t_.” Jason bit out again, skin prickling.

 

And now he sounded like an immature five year old.

 

Fuck Jason’s life.

 

“Sure.” Tim deadpanned.

 

And then outright dismissed him, he turned, back to Jason like hey, Jason hadn’t tried to kill him that one time and was sorta tempted to try again right that second, to instead focus on digging something out of that ridiculously flashy yellow belt-thing.

 

“Hey, if you are so concerned,” Jason snapped out irritably, “Tell your damned _big brother_ to leave me the hell alone. Two problems gone.”

 

“That’s stupid.” Tim told him, all the superiority of a snot-nosed teenager as he still casually scavenged around in his belt.

 

“Oh yeah?” Jason challenged, annoyance prickling under his skin and the urge to throw a punch rising, “Why’s that?”

 

“Because he’d worry about you if he couldn’t see you.” Replacement explained, in big slow words like Jason was a fucking retard.

 

Dick Grayson? Worried about him? This kid ranked higher up on the retarded scale than big bird himself and therefore definitely higher than Jason (probably).

 

 _No one_ cared about him.

 

“Kid, you need to get your problems sorted.” Jason told him, frankly.

 

Red Robin didn’t reply, just finally pulling a small round cube out of his belt and started twisting it.

 

The cube lit up blue, flashing intermittently. Tim’s mouth curved into a smile.

 

Then Red Robin chucked it over the crates, ducked back down and clamped a hand over his eyes. Jason hurried to copy him, because the punk had just thrown something and-

 

Everything lit up blazing white, seeping even through Jason’s fingers and his mask.

 

A blinding cube. Replacement was a retard, but hell, Jason didn’t want to like him so much.

 

He hadn’t been lying when he said he liked the bat toys.

 

“Don’t even pretend you wouldn’t miss him either.” Tim added, gone by the time Jason cracked his eyes open.

 

There were the sounds of muffled thumps and the sound of cord ties zipping together, and Jason rolled his eyes.

 

Tim was still wrong.

 

Really wrong.

 

Just prove how wrong, Jason left as soon as it was mostly clear. Not even a word or a tossed comment to Dick the entire time, nothing but a terse nod of cooperation when south side had started burning.

 

It didn’t even feel weird.

 

Not even when Dick started to look around for him, time for their customary banter session, and Jason slipped into the shadows. He pulled a batman on him and scrammed.

 

It didn’t even feel weird.

 

Not at all.

 

Jason dropped their shared communicator down the drain first chance he got, ignoring the urge to snipe into the other end, Dick’s voice calling through it staying his hand for a moment too long and just-

 

God. Jason shouldn’t.

  
He really, _really_ , shouldn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second of the two chapter update! Two chapters uploaded in one go because, well, Chap 7 was pretty short.

A normal day for Jason included the standard mix of criminals, thieves, smugglers, drug dealers, murders, terrorists and gangs and mobs of all kinds. Now, of course, also included the rumour warfare that was happening with Nightwing. Jason didn’t like to think of it as a losing battle but damn Dickie could be good.

  
Point was that generally the super-powered community (the damn metas that Jason couldn’t help but think that cheated) tended to leave Gotham alone. Perhaps hearing Batman’s threats, or sensing the place was too screwed up even for them. There were exceptions, of course there was, but generally? Yeah, not really a lot.

 

So finding four metas as the leaders of Gotham’s latest gun running ring? Not what Jason had expected.

 

Particularly as they all shot _fire_ out of their _hands_ and were _bulletproof_.

 

Unfair. Completely and utterly.

 

“Need a hand?” Dick’s voice was not unexpected; by this stage half the docks were alight.

 

Bit more of a signal than a floodlight against a cloud. Jason was only surprised he only had Dick down here at this point. He’d been kinda expecting a grand reunion of anyone still in Gotham.

 

Jason straightened his shoulders and threw another grenade over his shoulder. Not to fight fire with fire, Jason had always thought that stupid saying, but to fight fire with water. He was going to knock out the docks, see if fucking bulletproof metas could swim.

 

“Sure don’t.” Jason sniped back, barely taking into the account as Dick landed silently beside him, ducking up to take a good view and ducking quickly back down as an inferno broke over their heads.

 

“Oh fun.” Dick grinned, face lit by the unholy flames bursting above their heads, “Which pillars are left?”

 

Typical Dick. Arriving when all the hard work was done and scooping up the rewards.

 

Jason didn’t even bother complaining. Complaining was generally more fun with meta humans on the fucking floor of the bay.

 

“Nearly dealt with.“ Jason told him smugly, “Now Dickiebird time to fly away before you burn your wings.”

 

Dick frowned, “What are you-“

 

Jason sprung to his feet the moment the fire stopped.

 

He ran, jumping and spinning between creates, seeing his black and blue shadow follow and race past, and threw two grenades at the pillars, pulled a small remote out of his jacket and kept running. Jason’s special surprise would englulf the dock, he needed to make sure he was at least on the solid ground to avoid going under with it.

 

Jason glanced over his shoulder.

 

A meta was running after him, fire spinning in his hands, face contorted in rage and _crap, oh crap_ , if Jason didn’t blow it now, the Meta was going to shoot and there was no cover this close to the end of the dock and Jason would be too dead to press the button-

 

His thumb pushed down.

 

Distantly he saw the flash of fire the race forward and engulf of the chasing meta, then the shock wave was rushing through the air and then Jason was hurtling forward.

 

Blue and black flared around his vision and Jason had time to reconsider just how _stupid_ Dick was (answer: _monumentally_ ), when the secondary explosions started up. 

 

Yes cause _gunrunners_ had their own explosives didn’t they? Apparently they hadn’t just kept to the gun trade like Jason had heard. Fucking-

 

Jason’s world narrowed down to the long agonising bruise of his body, slamming into concrete and rolling, twisting across the ground something hard pressing him down, and heat, blasting heat burning across his cheeks, singing his skin, eating away-

 

_Say hello to the big man from me. The Joker had said, and laughed and the beep, beep, beep, beep and he was **burning** -_

 

“-can you hear me?”

 

Jason blinked, rapidly.

 

Stupid. _Stupid_. He wasn’t there he was…

 

Jason glanced sideways, dock burning to the heavens and Jason was most definitely alive.  Alive. As in not dead. As in not a pulp of ash, not today, no sir-ee.

 

Christ he needed to get over himself.

 

“Little wing.” Dick’s words were concerned, worried, “Come on, talk to me,”

 

Jason turned his attention to his own situation. Mainly being Dick Grayson pinning him to the ground, hands fumbling around his hood as if to try and pull it off.

 

They were on a rooftop, high above and away from the flames, and Jason had no idea how he’d gotten there.

 

Wait. He had one idea but it involved Dick and a fireman’s carry and _jesus_ that was too embarrassing.

 

“Not my name, ” Jason told him, voice rusty but he was ignoring that, swiping a hand at the attempted hood intrusion.

 

If the wet prickling against his eyes meant anything, it meant Jason was keeping his hood most firmly on until he got well away from here.

 

Jason blinked.

 

Apparently Dick’s excursion into the flames to pull him out and side affects. His hair was wild, a mane of black around his ash streaked face. But even under the ash it was hard to ignore the bright red of burn across his lower, unmasked face.

 

Despite it probably hurting a hell of a lot, Dick’s chapped looking lips stretched into a smile.

 

“Well that's good.” Dick told him, voice thin despite the effort into making it seem cheerful, “Because now I can kill you myself for such a ignorant, reckless move.”

 

Jason couldn’t help the automatic scowl.

 

“I could say the same.” He reached up before he could think on it, fingers hovering awkwardly beside the red of Dick’s face.

 

His mind blanked. What was he _doing_??

 

He snatched his hand back suddenly but the damage was done. Like it had been some kind of admission, or hell a mixed up sort of compliment, Dick’s lips twisted more honest smile.

 

“Hey someone had to make up for the rookie mistake you pulled.” Dick teased, soft, non-consequential words that had seemed so foreign to their normal conversations.

 

“Well go get yourself gold medal.” Jason told him dryly, floundering to find some balance in their new word play.

 

Dick still had him pinned. Jason quickly rectified that, pushing up and setting Dick aside. If his shoves were softer than usual, Dick didn’t say anything. He just let Jason move him, their eyes turning to the docks.

 

In the distance the dock fire sparked up high into the night sky.

 

It was pretty in a way.

 

The flames licked up higher as every new container of gunpowder was found, echoing in the Gotham air with a dull crack. Like fireworks. Not that Jason had much to go off, last time he’d properly watched fireworks had been when he was still living the tight green panties life and Bruce and Dick had taken him out and-

 

“What no, I’ve had you pinned beneath me comments?” Jason asked latching onto the first topic he could think of ( _anything_ else), eyes riveted on the fire, “Hell even I have a choice things to say about that.”

 

He should have left. He should be going _now_. Police were going to be here soon, maybe even the big B, and staying would just be trouble. But, Jason shifted, he didn’t… want to. Not yet.

 

And he didn’t want to examine that at _all_.

 

Dick laughed lowly beside him. It was a nice sound, a happy sound and it ended too soon.

 

“If you had wanted me to, you should have let me know, I could have added it to the rumours.” Dick’s voice sounded more real, grounded, but still so _wrong_ , “But contrary to what you may believe I’m not just after those gorgeous legs.”

 

 _That_ was a cue to leave.

 

Dick lied, Dick was a drama queen, none of it was real and the harsh bite of annoyance was enough to provoke Jason to rise.

 

“Yeah sure. Dickie, whatever floats your boat.” Jason told him glibly.

 

In Jason’s peripheral vision he caught a dark cloak flickering, _definitely_ time to leave.

 

Standing up, tenderly, feeling the scrapes and his own sunburn like burns hissed against him angrily, he dusted off his pants, eyeing the long gashes in the material. Fuck, he was gonna have to mend that. 

 

He took a step, glad to see legs working fine and rolled his shoulders. He paused mid-step.

 

“Dick.” Jason looked down to the gritty cement beneath his feet, voice abruptly thick.

 

“Hm?”

 

The fire fighters pulled up beside the docks, men in yellow leaping out hauling hoses over their shoulders. They rushed like angry ants towards the blaze, fanning out and water streaming into the fire.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Dick turned to look at him, his expression warm and soft and flushed red from the fire-

 

Jason left before he could make more of a fool of himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Jason Hunter, the quiet tenant in Apartment 4A in the run down crapshack that was the ‘Vistas’ apartment block in the north, lived in very different circles to Gotham’s darling Dick Grayson. Well, it wasn’t so much lived in different circles as lived in different dimensions. No cross-dimensional anything, the kind of very separate, very discrete, non-mixable dimensions.

 

Hence when Jason Hunter was drinking at a semi-local mob nightclub (and Jason Todd was reading lips for info on a bombs for drugs trade) there should have been no appearance of Dick Grayson.

 

And technically, there wasn’t.

 

 But like Jason Todd was good at playing at being Jason Hunter, Dick Grayson was just at good at playing a plain old Dick. And their dimensions, unfortunately, did mix.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Dick’s words were smooth, polished, and pressed right against Jason’s ear.

 

Jason bit back a loud curse as his heart lurched in his throat. His eyes sweeping over the side, where Dick all but pressed up against him, wicked smiles and bright eyes.

 

Something else lurched in low his gut.

 

“I’m embracing a dick-free environment.” Jason swiped back hard, still struggling to keep his heart under control, “I’ve taken up pilates, and yoga, really finding the inner me.”

 

Dick slid between Jason’s stool and the next one, close like he’d always been there, friendly-like to all those watching, a couple of old buddies.

 

Too close. Too friendly.

 

It itched under Jason’s skin like a rash, but Jason Hunter was a mild, quiet man and didn’t start bar fights. _Couldn’t_ would have been a better word. Jason still had to find out about the damn trade.

 

“Which is a yes then.” Dick waved over another two beers with a smile five watts too bright for this side of town, or heck, anywhere in Gotham, “Its no fun spreading rumours that go undisputed. I’ve been lonely.”

 

“Have you, that’s nice.” Jason ended shortly, wanting to get away, get up and away.

 

Dick sighed, lent against the bar and looked away, casual-like, at the rest of the bar.

 

“Jason.” Dick said patiently, lower pitched voice as something a little more honest, a little truer to form came out, “You haven’t been on patrol in weeks.”

 

Correction. Jason hadn’t been on patrol where he knew Dick could find him. Sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Dick that. Not after what had happened last time they’d been together at the docks.

 

Dick might get the wrong idea.

 

(Or the right one, a part of Jason piped up but that was the part that thought that Bruce and he would actually get along one day so.)

 

“Been busy.” Jason looked away, kept his voice gritty, “Dick-free environment and all that.”

 

Dick looked at him for a moment. Stared, long and hard and Jason resolutely did not give him the pleasure looking back. Nup. No sir-ee, Jason was just going to sit here and ignore it.

 

Just ignore Dick.

 

“So is Jason Hunter gay?”

 

And- what-

 

Jason’s eyes widened, his head snapping to Dick fast enough Jason felt his neck pop disconcertingly.

 

Dick’s smirk was pure evil.

 

“Personally, I think it would add to the realism.” Dick commented airily, “his boyfriend, a dirty secret from his homophobic boss. Some leverage for the mobs to utilise.”

 

The worst thing, the worst thing about Dick was how he was damn good at making plans. Jason still wasn’t going to admit it though. He was not getting a mile near Dick’s games.

 

“No.” Jason bit out, low and eyes sweeping over nearby ears, “And No. Dick. Fuck off.”

 

Dick ran a finger over the bar, headed towards his hands and Jason snatched it back quickly, staring at Dick hard.

 

“Oh, I could play the ex,” Dick suggested, hand retreating but far too slowly for Jason’s liking, “The very wants-to-back-together ex.”

 

“No. You are not.” Jason said lowly, taking a drink of his beer and angling his body away from Dick, careful not to lose sight of him entirely, “You are leaving now.”

 

Dick pulled a face, something terrifyingly heartbroken, “But- but we could be so good together Jay.”

 

Jason’s eyebrows popped. And no, he couldn’t do this.

 

Screw it.

 

Jason shoved out of his seat, wincing at the ache of muscles he hadn’t moved since his four hour stake out began. Immediately he was stopped in his place by Dick’s hand, shooting out and grasping his forearm.  Dick’s façade was gone when Jason looked, leaving nothing but the scope of Dick’s eyes up and down him, functional, systematically sweeping him.

 

“Jason.” Dick said low and too serious, “You weren’t injured at all by the-“

 

An injury. Dick thought-

 

The caring was another façade, it had to be, another lie-

 

“Dick.” Jason smiled hard enough to hurt his cheeks, “You never cared about me and explosions before so why start now?”

 

Dick reacted instantly; hand snapping back to his side, like Jason was lava and Dick had been burnt. He stepped back a fraction of a step, which wasn’t much, but still felt like a mile when they’d all but been breathing in each other’s space before.

 

The funniest thing about it was that Jason had said much worse to him before, Dick had always replied in kind. They’d said so much worse to each other, done so much worse to one another, sure not recently, but…

 

This time just felt…

 

Jason teetered awkwardly, something sharp feeling in his chest. Something painful like a rush of guilt he refused to feel, and he didn’t drop his gaze from Dick, kept his mouth in the straight line, and didn’t blink as Dick’s expression closed off and he moved away from him, staring at Jason like he was some kind of stranger.

 

Then Dick’s eyes flashed to the side, dark and sudden, and Dick had a hand in Jason’s collar and was pulling him in hard.

 

For a crazy moment Jason though he was gonna kiss him again.

 

“Listen punk.” Dick growled out, and his voice was deeper, rougher, and fuck _that_ did something to Jason’s insides, “I’m gonna find out where you hid my stash one way or another.”

 

With that Dick thrust him hard against the counter, Jason’s glass toppled over behind him, they were drawing more than a few stares now, and Dick pressed all up against him in ways Jason’s brain struggled with.

 

“You ain’t got anyone to fence it to.” Dick hissed, then stepped back, dusting his hands off exaggeratedly, “You got till tomorrow.”

 

Then he left. Head high in the air, swagger on in full.

 

Jason sucked in a hard breath.

 

Then his target was before him, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Got problems kid?”

 

Jason blinked at him, stupidly.

 

It was half acting, half shock.

 

It took Jason a good few moments to get his head together enough to use the opportunity Dick had provided.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life goes on for Jason (but it doesn't, not really)

Dick had disappeared from Jason’s patrols.

 

The rumours dropped. Chinese whispers had changed the gossip to (disturbingly) Batman and the Red Hood, then Red Robin, then two other superheroes all together and (thankfully) out of the bat clan. People stopped whispering Nightwing’s name when they saw Red Hood. The trashy superhero ‘slashing’ blogs started looking at other couples.

 

Things didn’t return entirely to normal, no, Jason was still getting grief from anyone with even the smallest homophobic tendency (which Jason gleefully repaid tenfold), but it wasn’t… it wasn’t like what it had been.

 

Which was good.

 

It was all good.

 

It was just _strange_ being back to normal.

 

His plans pulled off without a Nightwing shaped hitch. Crims tumbled hard into his traps. Bigger guns heard his name and tried to run.  They didn’t succeed of course, but the point was they were trying.

 

And again no Dick to foil his plans.

 

So Jason did what he always did, and threw himself into his plans.

 

“Please don’t hurt me.” Quibbled one sad mark, face pressed hard into the concrete, “Please don’t, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

 

Of course he would. Jason pressed the muzzle of his gun a little firmer against his neck and tried to suppress a sigh.

 

“Okay then. The deal. Where’s it going down. Which mob boss is it?”” Jason ran off his list of questions punctually.

 

The perp shuddered.

 

“Barrow’s House. Its Barrow’s deal.”

 

Damn. Jason had only planned one entry if it had been Barrow. He’d been hoping Sanders. Sanders he could have put down with a bullet from a sniper. Barrow was paranoid, and lived in his fortress of a house. But he had his weaknesses.

 

Just one Jason really didn’t want to exploit.

 

“Next question.” Jason spoke clear and crisp, pressed the gun a little harder.

 

“Sure, anything.” The guy blabbed, “if you want I can even tell you all I know about Nightwing’s current location, I heard-“

 

Nightwing.

 

It was the first time anyone had said that to him- like-

 

And it was coming out of this guy’s mouth, like he had any right to-

 

Jason pressed the crim’s face harder to the concrete. Gritted his teeth.

 

“No, this is about a little girl, does the name Margaret ring a bell?”

 

It was almost funny how quickly the guy went from quivering mess to rock still.

 

“No. Never heard it.” His breathing was shallow, and Jason had never heard a more obvious lie.

 

“Okay then,” Jason said agreeably, going along with him, “Then what about Mellissa, Ann? Or maybe Tina.”

 

He was hyperventilating now wasn’t he?

 

“Don’t know any of them.”

 

Liar.

 

“I think you do.” Jason hissed out between closed teeth, “You remember the names of all the girls you sexually assaulted don’t you? All the names in that little orphanage you ran.”

 

“Wait, wait.” The guy gasped, thick like sobs, “ _they_ came onto me-“

 

“Yes. Five year olds do that.” Jason spat out sarcastically and pulled the trigger.

 

It was his first kill since Dick had-

 

Jason pulled back, wiped the blood from his hood, tucked his gun away.

 

Right so then. Barrow.

 

And it didn’t even feel weird to be back to normal.

 

-

 

 

The suit was tight. It was a proper fit, all proportions 100% correct from a (ridiculously) well-paid tailor, just on the snug side like Jason had intended. The silvery grey matched perfectly with the dark grey shirt underneath, unbuttoned down by three buttons, forgoing the tie to flash a little chest. His honey trap buttons Jason called them, smirking at the mirror before he’d attacked his hair.

 

The bouncer for Barrow’s shindig took one look at him and waved him in, no need to even glance at the list he had in his hand.

 

Jason smiled, and entered the fray of good-looking people and obscenely sexual music.  Waiters in gold spun past, and Jason snagged a glass of champagne, taking sip.

 

It wasn’t hard to find Barrow. All Jason had to do was follow the spotlights.

 

There was a literal gold throne in the middle of the room, raised on a platform because apparently Barrow was narcissism incarnate. Hilariously, the largest numbers of scantily clad female bodies were pressed tightly around the platform. Hilarious because Barrow, who grinned slimy and cocky on his throne didn’t even glance at the lovely lady grinding down on his lap, no, his eyes caught on a near by, very male, waiter, hips swaying in his short-shorts as he served the drinks.

 

Barrow thought he kept his inclinations a secret, with good reason too. Gotham’s underbelly was hardly an equal society, but it had been easy to find out. Ridiculously obvious to anyone here.

 

Next step. Bait the hook.

 

Jason found himself a piece of the illuminated blue bar, just angled just _so_ in the light, smiled and waited.

 

Barrow’s eyes snapped to him as the song had changed, and Jason angled his smile into something a bit dirtier, cocked his head.  Watched as Barrow’s eyes ran down his body, lingering on that bit of chest, then ran all the way back up. Jason had to suppress a shudder at the leering assessment, but apparently he’d passed muster.

 

Barrow smiled back, slick as slime, and stepped off his throne.

 

The honey trap buttons had worked their magic, Jason turned from the now empty throne, cocking his hip against the bar, and smirked at Barrow’s approach.

 

He was by Jason’s side in a breath, careful not to touch, but hand on the bar on one side of Jason, the other holding his drink straight in front of him.

 

He kept his secret very badly.

 

“Happy birthday” Jason said slowly, dropping his tone into something a little more husky, “Marcus passes on his best wishes too.”

 

Barrow’s eyes widened fractionally, then dipped, caught on the curve of Jason’s lips, the flash of his exposed collar bones. Marcus was Barrow’s right hand man. Marcus, according to popular rumour, always sent Barrow an attractive, and very secretive, male whore on his birthday. 

 

Rumour looked like it had some truth.

 

“Does he now?” Barrow admitted freely, with a leer, “When do I get to unwrap this gift?”

 

He leant forward, hands reaching out to skim over Jason’s collar.

 

“Soon,” Jason smiled, pushed himself off the bar, into Barrow’s space a little closer, a hairbreadth away from touching, until all Jason could smell was the musky scent of too much cologne, “Sooner if I had any choice in it.”

 

Barrow’s breaths hitched. 

 

“But Marcus wants the business first.” Jason tilted his head, relaxed back into the bar, grinned at the way the Barrow followed him back in.  
  
  
  
Like it was all such a bother, Barrow huffed, sending warm musky breath right over Jason face, which yeah _ew_. Thankfully Barrow moved back before Jason's grimace could slip through, pressing a hand low and hot against the small of Jason’s back. With a little push, he led Jason to a small innocuous door to the side of the bar.

 

The air was cool outside the dance floor, and the quieter with the thump, thump of music behind them. Barrow brushed a kiss against Jason’s neck as he squeezed Jason closer to him.

 

“Marcus is testing me, but sure, business first,” Barrow promised again, and he licked Jason’s pulse point, Jason bit down the rising grimace, “Then we can get to _business_.”

 

His hand slipped down to grab Jason’s ass. Jason grinned hard, feeling the edges of it twist at the sides, and lifted Barrows hand, just a little, back to his back. Barrow barked a laugh, buried it against Jason's neck.

 

“Oh modest are you?” Barrow murmured, “Oh we’ll see if we can change that later.”

 

They entered a small hall and Barrow’s hand curled harder against Jason’s waist, fingers splaying up the edge of Jason’s ribs. There was a figure looking out into the garden, back turned to them, hands neatly folded.

 

Barrow cleared his throat.

 

“Excuse the lateness,” Barrow apologised, not sounding sorry at all, and Jason would have bet his presence and the lateness were all ways to put this new guy off, “You got my order Gregory?”

 

Gregory turned, lines blurred by the dancing lights out the window, but enough Jason could see that suit was well cut, expensive, this player wanted to at least look like he didn’t need Barrow’s money but there was something in the way the man carried himself that belied a sudden shock-

 

Jason’s eyes went up to Gregory’s face and Jason found himself facing Dick Grayson.

 

Oh shit on a fucking-

 

There was no deal.

 

This was Dick’s _sting_.

 

 _Shit_.

 

Dick smoothed down his dark suit, and glanced from Barrow to Jason, his eyes caught the way Barrow was holding Jason’s waist. He arched a brow.

 

 “You brought company?” Dick said easily, voice almost bland.

 

Barrow slapped Jason’s ass again, and Jason jerked despite himself, something Barrow’s very dirty snigger obviously approved off. There was the faintest twitch in the corners of Dick’s eyes.

 

“I brought _entertainment_.” Barrow’s corrected, and Jason forced himself to press a hand to Barrow’s chest, smiling like it was a fucking hilarious joke. To be honest it was, just not the one Barrow thought he was enjoying, “Get good Gregory and you could have your own entertainment one day!”

 

Dick hmm’ed, placing his briefcase on the table and popping the lock easily.

 

“I think I prefer yours.” Dick said so calmly, at first Jason thought he heard wrong.

 

No _Fucking_ -

 

Barrow laughed, loud, like the line was _hilarious_.

 

“Balls kid.” Barrow looked over at Jason, appraisingly, “What do you reckon love? Give Gregor here a free ride if he’s got the goods?”

 

Jason’s eyes snapped over to Dick, who just continued to watch them blandly, his entire demeanour still. Barrow snickered.

 

“Marcus said-“ Jason started, just a little tartly, fully planning to get the hell out of this, but Dick was having none of it.

 

“Actually,” Dick started, a hard smile on his face, “Give him to me for the rest of your night, and I’ll take another 30% of the price.”

 

The pit of Jason's stomach dropped, and he could see this fucking train wreck coming, he knew where this was going. Barrow just barked again, fingers running up and down Jason's side, movement Dick's eyes tracked.

 

“Or,” Dick voice was entirely like ice, “I’ll just not deliver the goods.”

 

The smile slipped off Barrow's face. 

 

“You do that, you’re dead.” Barrow said, slow, poisonously, hand dropping from Jason’s waist.

 

“Be that as it may,” Dick smiled, but there was no humour in it, “You still won’t get your goods.”

 

What the _fuck_ did Dick think he was _doing_.

 

He had to know Jason sure as hell wasn’t a real hooker, he wasn’t going to hang around for Barrow’s _entertainment_ , so why the _hell_ would he- What the fuck kind of game was he playing?

 

Barrow shoved Jason, hard and sudden hand propelling him on his back. Jason forced himself to stumble, and turned to look at Barrow with wide eyes.

 

“Do the fuck what you like with him.” Barrow hissed out, “Just tell me where my goddamn goods are.”

 

Dick passed over a sheet of paper, smiled thin and hard.

 

Barrow snatched the paper as soon as it was in reach, eying the paper then Dick with a look that sent warning vibes running right down Jason’s spine.

 

The man hadn’t stayed at the top of his game for no reason.

 

“Good doing business with you.” Dick picked up his briefcase again, snagged Jason’s wrist like a parent plucking up a wayward child, “enjoy your birthday.”

 

Dick towed Jason out of the room, Jason forced himself to follow and not snatch his hand back, forced himself to play the dumb hooker. When he looked back to Barrow, Barrow was staring at nothing but Jason’s wrist, and Dick’s hand around it.

 

When they rounded the bend, out of sight, Jason straightened, reached out to press his fingers warningly on Dick’s arm.

 

Jason couldn’t say anything. Not here. Not with all of Barrow’s fucking cameras.  But-

 

The whore he was playing, could.

 

“I’m flattered.” Jason tried, as low and come-hither as he could, maybe laying it on a bit thick, but Jason doubted anyone but Dick would be able to tell, “My prices usually aren’t so high.”

 

Dick said nothing, pulling him resolutely forward. Not letting his grip drop for a second.

 

Jason felt a muscle twitch in his jaw, stepped up to walk faster so he walked beside Dick and not behind him.

 

“I mean, what will Barrow think, you nearly killing a deal for a guy like little old me?” Jason drawled, could feel his annoyance biting into his words, “I mean he could think that its susp-“

 

Dick turned sharply sideways, twisted sharply, jolting Jason off course, and backing him hard against a wall. Just by a brief glance at the cameras, Jason could see that they were in one of the few blind spots in the entire hallway. He scowled.

 

“What are _you_ doing?” Dick hissed, hard and angry, words low and almost pressed to Jason’s neck.

 

“My _job_.” Jason sneered, “Apparently it’s a bit redundant at the moment.”

 

“Getting in my way, its that your _job_?” Dick bit out.

 

Jason let the jab land, let it steel his insides. It jerked unsteadily in his gut and Jason’s expression blanked. Dick looked away, looked down and breathed hard through his nose, still pressed claustrophobically close. Squeezed into their little blind spot together.

 

“You’re going to let go of me right the fuck now.” Jason spoke slow, calm.

 

And Dick’s hands fisted just that little bit tighter in his collar as if to prove him wrong. Dick glanced up to meet his gaze, something just that little bit pained about it.

 

“You are the most infuriating-“ Dick started, hot and low.

 

“Hey I wasn’t the one that just implied-“ Jason bit back immediately.

 

“What are you playing?” Dick asked, like Jason was an idiot and had forgotten how he’d got his particular invite to Dick’s sting, “And you know I couldn’t have saved you that night, you know how I _grieved_ -“

 

Fuck. Dick was still on that. Just continuing it like it was some sort of conversation they’d had paused, not like Dick had just stormed off, not like Jason had let him to keep his cover. It had been months since Jason had even _said_ –

 

It was a different fight all together, entirely different tracks, but Jason found himself just as happy to go up that path as any other.

 

“Do I?” Jason asked, feeling hot under the collar, fingers twitching with the urge to turn this verbal fight physical.

 

“I _did_.” Dick hissed out, as if personally offended, “And if you think for a moment that-“

 

Dick stopped himself, and Jason felt his eyes grow wide.There were footsteps.

 

They couldn’t be fighting. Not a business man and the whore he’d won. There was only one thing they could be doing down a darkened hallway.

  
So Jason complied, didn’t even hesitate, just grabbed Dick’s hair, weaving his fingers deep in Dick’s hair, pressed a leg between his and pulled him in. He kissed him, as showy and as messy as he could, moaning wantonly.  
  


Dick, to his credit, didn’t so much as pause, he licked into Jason’s mouth like he’d been dying to do it, dragging his tongue against Jason’s like he was the addict and Jason was the dealer. It sparked a warmth that shot right through Jason’s gut, and the next moan he gave was a little too realistic, a little too real full stop because that just-

 

Jason tightened his fingers in Dick’s hair, something sparking hot and dangerous and _wanting_ in his belly.

 

A flash of a guard uniform walking past, no hesitation in the footsteps as they disappeared, steps drumming and fading in the hallway.

 

Then it was just Dick, Dick with his hands on Jason’s waist, his mouth on Jason’s, lips suddenly soft and curving and far too-

 

Jason wrenched Dick’s head away and Dick’s eyes flinched wide, giving Jason’s front row seats to how dark they’d gotten, the look in them-

 

Jason’s breaths felt overly loud.

 

He wanted to latch onto something, anything to say, the more biting the better, but he couldn’t even remember what they were arguing about seconds before.

 

Dick moved in, a little dazed, lips brushing against Jason’s in a bizarre sort of kiss, the warm air from his mouth skirting over Jason’s too sensitive bottom lip, Jason felt himself tilt in a little, a little closer, lips brushing. Dick’s hands curled a little tighter on his waist, branding hot handprints through the tight shirt.

 

He could just pull him in again.

 

The thought was unbidden, sudden, and Jason’s hands tugged, and Dick pressed closer, bodies lining up snugly in a way they hadn’t before, their chests bumping with breath, but Dick still held back, his lips barely grazing Jason’s.

 

It was too much.

 

It was not enough.

 

And this was the wrong place.

 

“Jay,” Dick breathed, a whisper so soft Jason felt it against his mouth, pressing in on the _y_ , felt it more than heard it, “I …“

 

Fear struck Jason cold through the stomach.

 

No.

 

No. They were not going wherever that sentence lead.

 

Jason pulled back, hard, pushing away, getting away from Dick, and falling right under the range of the camera as he did so. He turned, smiled as hard as he could, when all he wanted to do was… was… well it wasn’t smiling. Dick stared at him with something that looked desperately sad.

 

“Its time you take this little old hooker home.” Jason told him, words so hard they sloped sardonic, “get what you paid for.”

 

Dick’s look faded as he stepped out, his own acting façade falling perfectly over him, he lead the way, a step in front of Jason, leading them out.

 

Dick said nothing more, but Jason counted each of his ragged breaths.

 


	11. Chapter 11

It was just a graze, just a lucky shot right at weak spot in Jason’s gear, right to the side of his stomach. A couple extra inches it would have been a liver shot, then again, a couple extra inches and it would have hit the armour and all Jason would be left with was a bruise, and not a gash just deep enough to warrant stitches. 

 

He bit down on the belt he stuffed in his mouth as he finished off the last of the stitches. The thread was carefully tied off as he dabbed the wound in alcohol once more, and yeah, that definitely stung, and carefully placed the bandage over the top. Jason winced at the feeling of it, the taunt, radiating pain as he cautiously moved to pull the belt out of his mouth.

 

Didn’t matter how many times in your life you got injured, they never stopped hurting. 

 

Jason took a good slug of whisky and dropped the needle into boiling water. 

 

“Fuck.” Jason muttered, stared at the neat white ceiling and said it again, “ _Fuck._ ”

 

Fuck was a good assessment. 

 

Lucky shot or not, Jason shouldn’t have even been hit by the bullet. 

 

He’d been sloppy.

 

Been distracted. 

 

Stupid, _fucking_ Dick Grayson.

 

He hadn’t seen Dick since the party that had gone to sideways, and yeah, Barrow had been taken down in big Nightwing sized chunks. Jason had heard the tale whispered in the alleys. Nightwing had been brutal and swift, taking down each arm of his operation, each income stream, before finally confronting the desperate man himself. Now Barrow had two broken arms, and a new home in Arkham. Aggressive, almost excessively so for Dick.  
  
  
But the absence of Dick hadn’t stopped Jason’s brain from lapsing back to Dick, again and again and again, all at the most inopportune moments.

 

Especially when they were in the corridor-

 

Jason took another sip, mouth twisting. 

 

It was distracting, dangerous, and Jason had to focus on his job. Dick wasn’t important, not in the long run. Stopping crime was important. Ignoring Batman for his sanity was important. 

 

Thinking of Dick’s expression when they’d pulled part, the way Jason had just wanted to pull him in again-

 

No. That was not important.

 

“Fuck.” Jason hissed.

 

And it was so fucking stupid.

 

Jason got up, wincing as his side pulled and hobbled over to his sink. 

 

He put the glass straight in, giving it a rinse and turning it upside-down, and then washed his hands. The blood from his wound trickling from his hands and spinning around the drain. He splashed some water onto his face for good measure, shutting his eyes as he felt the water run down in messy streams down his face. If only he could have washed Dick from his mind as easily, if only he could have just watched those memories swirl and disappear-

 

Someone knocked on his door.

 

Jason still had his hands pressed to his face, still wet and dripping and stared at the sink for a moment. Because no,  he didn’t get guests and-

 

Another knock.

 

Jason narrowed his eyes, swiftly knelt and took out his fourth best gun (hidden under the sink, a better option than his sixth favourite in the cookie tin). He eyed the door for a moment, almost expecting it to burst in and bad guys to pile inside.

 

Because, well, lets be honest, that was kind of how his month was going. 

 

There was another knock, a little slower, _mockingly_ slow. 

 

And bad guys didn’t really knock did they?

 

It could be Dick. The thought ran through Jason’s blood like a dose of ice. It could be Dick and what would Jason do, what would he say? Oh, remember that time we made out when I was dressed as a expensive hooker and you were an evil drug dealer? Yeah, that was a bad idea because it ended up getting me shot but I kinda don’t mind cause it was really hot.

 

Yeah, no. 

 

Again. Knocking.

 

Maybe if Jason just pretended he wasn’t home. It wasn’t as if he had the television was on, no noise would have come through the door-

 

“Todd. I know you are in.” Damian’s voice came through, muffled but no less pissed off, and really, what the fuck was Jason’s life, “Stop being childish and come to the door immediately.” 

 

Jason scowled, skin crawling. God, he was such a little brat.

 

He straightened quickly – ow, maybe too quick-, dropped the gun back in its hiding hole and hobbled over to the door. Jason opened the only so much that he could stand in the gap between the frame and the door, hip cocked against the frame, a hand securely on the handle. If he could have written "not welcome" on his forehead too, he would have.  


 

Damian, dressed in civvies, took one look slow look at him. His gaze travelled down Jason like he was some insect under inspection, taking in the grime from Jason’s patrol, the bags Jason knew he had under his eyes, and finally resting on the newly bandaged wound, stark white against Jason’s skin. Damian sniffed. 

 

“You may ask me in.” Damian told him.

 

His tone was like Talia’s, and right out of his memory when Jason was young and messed up. Talia’s firm words and guiding hand had been the only thing that had made any sense- except Jason wasn’t as fucked up as he was, and Damian's slid too far into patronising to be guiding. 

 

Jason snorted, crossed his arms, “And why the heck would I do that?” 

 

Damian looked down his nose at him, and yeah, that did mean that his head was tilted back at a frankly ridiculous angle. Jason wished for a camera. 

 

“You will invite me in.” Damian insisted, and locked eyes on Jason’s wound again,”or you will not like the consequences.”

 

That sounded very much like Damian was going to punch him in the stitches. 

 

Jason’s brows couldn’t go any higher. 

 

It wasn’t that Jason doubted he could, Damian could very easily punch him and Jason doubted the brat would feel one iota of regret. It was just Jason didn’t think that Damian _would_. Sure, their working relationship these days wasn’t like Dick’s and Damian’s, not even Damian’s and Bruce’s was like that, but they had a mutual respect thing going on.

 

At least Jason thought they did.

 

“Well. What have you decided?” Damian asked, like there was a legitimate choice between punched in the stitches versus opening the door.

 

Honestly he couldn’t be _bothered_ with this.

 

Jason rolled his eyes, nudging open the door and turning around. The sooner Damian came here for whatever he wanted to do, the sooner he left and Jason could grab an ice pack, maybe a little more whiskey, and just fall onto the couch. Maybe hopefully forgetting Dick in the progress, but that all depended on how much whiskey he had. And truthfully Jason doubted if he had enough for _that_. 

 

“It’s a nice change, you knocking.” Jason drawled, hobbling over to sprawl himself over his favourite armchair, readjusting slightly so his side was not stretched uncomfortably, “I thought if you’d ever wanted to visit me, you’d just hang on the ceiling and wait. You know, like last time”

 

Damian glanced around dismissively as he walked in, the door shutting neatly behind him. When he finally looked down at Jason, he just looked unimpressed. Which Jason thought had to be his default expression. 

 

“I’ve already proved my point.” Damian said, and shifted into a different stance, hands tightly closed behind his back, and shoulders firmed, “You know I can hit you were it hurts.”

 

The words were said pointedly. Direct.

 

Oh hell no. Jason wasn’t getting this fucking _talk_ again was he.

 

Jason huffed, something like a laugh or a sigh, and let his head drop behind him on the chair, “You aren’t seriously going to give me the Shovel Talk as well are you?”

 

Damian didn’t budge. Keep just _looking_. And Jason knew he wasn’t that fascinating so…?

 

“There is nothing going on with me and Dick.” Jason explained, again, bigger, slower words, “And there won’t ever be.”

 

Because Jason wouldn’t let that happen. Kisses in dark hallways or otherwise, it was still one big N.O.

 

“For someone who can make passable strategies, you show some remarkable stupidity Todd.” Damian said, and the words wormed right under Jason’s skin, making him prickle.

 

“Really. Stupid am I now?” Jason said tightly.

 

“Yes.” Damian said, firmly, looking like he was teaching a remarkably slow child, “There is already something going on between you and Dick.”

 

“No there isn’t.” Jason denied, a hot automatic retort not giving a moment to consider it. 

 

It was Damian’s turn to roll his eyes,.

 

“Honestly. Accept the fact and move pass it.” The frown lines on Damian’s face sharpened, “And whatever that _thing_ is I suggest you end it.”

 

It was tempting, very very tempting to keep arguing that there was no thing, there was never going to be a thing. But Jason recalled his earlier plan. To let Damian do whatever he needed and get him gone. It was still a good plan, and Jason bit hard down on the retorts, opting for another line.

 

“Ok fine, you’re right, you’ve saved Dick’s feelings from being crushed under my cold callous hand,” Jason said with a dramatic flourish, “Dick’s sweet nature is now protected-“

 

“Richard can look after himself.” Damian corrected, overriding him, “he’s mature and capable and can fix his own messes.”

 

That derailed Jason’s monologue as swiftly as Damian actually punching him in the stitches. Jason shut his mouth awkwardly, readjusted his position on the chair to stare at Damian with both eyes. Because this wasn’t how the shovel talk went. This was exactly the opposite of the shovel talk. 

 

“You however, are not.” Damian lay his words out in the room like weapons, sharp and glinting, “If you had a relationship with Richard with your current approach to him you’d only cause him and yourself pain. And in the past you’ve proven that in emotionally high situations, you become incredibly unstable and reckless.”

 

And yes, there was the glance to Jason’s wound again.

 

“You’d only wound yourself.” Damian concluded, “and Grayson might never forgive himself if you injured yourself, physically or mentally, because of him.” 

 

And wow.

 

Jason stared.

 

There was nothing he could say to that. No words because that felt too close to the truth, too stark, hitting way to close to home. 

 

Damian looked at him, and looked like something almost pitying on the pint sized assassin’s face. 

 

“You are a useful ally in the field” Damian halted and amended, “when you choose to be. This relationship would do neither of you any good.”

 

For a crazy insane second, Jason saw Talia and Bruce in Damian’s tiny form, Talia’s insight and Bruce’s blunt approach, wrapped up in a boy who stood arms crossed in the middle of Jason’s room. Then, in a moment, it was gone, and it was just Damian. Damian who looked away, studying the wall intently as if the second hand embarrassment from Jason was too much.

 

“Theres not going to be a relationship with Dick.” Jason said, a little dumbly, still riding high from the shell shock of the year from Damian of all people.

 

Damian looked over at him sharply, disbelieving.

 

“You exceed in self-destructive behaviour Todd. I hope for once you are telling the truth.” Then he sniffed, and turned, sharp like a solider, “I will take my leave.”

 

And just like that Damian was gone. Moving out the door, shutting it behind him, footsteps echoing down the stairs and out of Jason’s hearing. 

 

Jason stared at the door long after he left.

 

Was that Damian worried about _him_? Or was that Damian just worried about loosing an ally? Or was that Damian worried about _Dick_?

 

Jason actually had no idea.

 

But.

 

He swallowed, forced himself to look away, down to his wound, and press a hand lightly over the top of it.

 

He might have a point.

 

Jason had to get over this. Had to stop thinking about it.  Down that path was emotional suicide, maybe even inadvertent physical suicide, and Jason wasn’t into deliberate self-sabotage.  He had to stop thinking about it.

 

Surely that couldn’t be too hard.


End file.
